Continuation of Where There's Smoke
by Petunia846
Summary: Just a short continuation of that great scene in Where There's Smoke.


"Just goes to show you, man. Payback is a-"

The two men looked up as the door to the loft swung open.

"Fiona."

She strode into the room with a slow, confident swagger. "You should see the other guy."

Michael crossed the room to where she stood, exhausted and disheveled but victorious. Any earlier animosity between them had faded hours ago as Michael raced around town to find her and Fiona fought to take care of the situation on her own end. She reached up to wrap one arm around his neck and he pulled her in to kiss her. Fiona cast her shoes to the floor. The two of them barely noticed the sound of the door closing. Michael's kisses were possessive and urgent. Once again he had come so close to losing her and once again they'd been brought back from the brink. She squeezed him and tried to fold herself into his body, fitting into all the little spaces that were reserved only for her.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, lips and bodies pressed desperately together, but soon she found herself out of breath. Her shoulder throbbed from the earlier injury and Michael's insistent embrace was forcing it in an odd direction. Finally she pulled away. Gasping, she rubbed her shoulder.

"Fi…what…?" Michael smoothed back her hair, looking confused. He was a bit breathless too, clearly he had been hoping to take their embrace a bit further.

She held up a finger while she caught her breath. "My shoulder," she told him. "It got dislocated earlier. I popped it back in," she went on nonchalantly, "but you know how that kind of thing is. Still hurts like a bitch."

He frowned, forgetting about any further amorous plans. In touching her hair he'd found a large scab on her forehead. "What about this?"

"Hmm?" She touched the spot. "Oh, I did that. Got me a trip to the bathroom so I could call you."

"Anything else?" His eyes were appraising her, checking for anything else out of place.

She shook her head without thinking and then grimaced. "Just a brutal headache."

He finally smiled and kissed her forehead. "Take this off," he ordered even though he'd already started unzipping her dress. "I'll get you some ice."

"Michael!" She laughed.

"You can get one of my shirts," he assured her, "just get out of this first."

She smiled and let the ruined dress slip down to her bare feet. She kicked it off and out of sight. "I really liked that dress," she sighed.

He pulled her in for another kiss and ran his hands down her bare back. "I'll buy you a new dress tomorrow," he mumbled through the kiss.

"And some shoes?"

"What's wrong with your shoes?" He looked down at them in confusion.

"Nothing," she told him. "I just like shoes."

He smiled. "We can look at shoes too." He held her, breathing against her neck and trying to hide the fact that his eyes were burning. He rarely admitted it, even to himself, but he abhorred the thought of never being forced to carry her shopping bags again. It was always in the hours after their near disasters that he felt the greatest pull towards a simpler life.

"Michael?"

"Yeah," he coughed, straightening up.

"Shirt? Ice?" She shivered and rubbed her shoulder to demonstrate her current dilemmas.

"Yes." He snapped back to action, back to that unflappable, team leader role that came so naturally. He pointed to the back of the loft where he kept his clothes. "You get the shirt, I'll get the ice," he told her as he rounded the kitchen counter in search of something cold.

He pulled out a bag of frozen blueberries. It would have to do. He wrapped it in a dishtowel and bent it back and forth a few times to make it more pliable.

"Need help?" he called across the loft to her.

"I am not an invalid, Michael. I can still dress myself," she called back.

"Just checking," he smiled to himself. "There's Advil in the medicine cabinet. You should take some for the swelling."

It was late and he was exhausted, so he pulled back the covers on the bed, stripped out of his shirt and slacks, and settled in on his side of the bed as she came back out in one of his dress shirts. It was pink.

"Did you buy this one just for me?" She teased him.

"I happen to look very good in pink." He stretched out his arms and motioned for her to join him in the bed.

She settled herself carefully with her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed the ice to her injured shoulder.

"Mmm," she sighed happily, closing her eyes.

"Do you want to talk about what's going on with Jesse?" He pulled the comforter up around them.

"No," she mumbled, already starting to fall asleep.

"You were angry before. I know you think I'm too obsessed but-"

"It is what it is, Michael. You know how I feel. Let's just enjoy a moment of peace, okay?"

He sighed and pressed his lips against her forehead in agreement.

She burrowed closer to him. She was completely exhausted. Music pounded in the club below them, but both of them had long since learned to tune that out. Other than the persistent beat, the only thing she heard was his breath and the occasional crinkle as he moved the frozen blueberries.

She was almost asleep when she felt him pull back a little to look at her. "Fiona?"

She tried not to make any sudden movements to keep her head from throbbing. "Yes, Michael?"

"Can you try not to do anything like this again?"

Now she looked at him. "Well it's not like I had it circled in my date book, Michael."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," she whispered.

"Fi."

"It's the life we lead Michael. You know as well as I do we're not exactly the picket fence types. I can't stop you from playing your little spy games with Jesse and I can't promise you I'll never be in a dangerous situation again."

He sighed. "I know. Sometimes I just wish…" His voice trailed off.

She pulled him close again. "No you don't."

He tightened his grip. "I know."

Fiona stretched the next morning and felt a jolt of pain shoot down her arm. The events of the day before came back immediately and she remembered where she was. Sensing Michael was no longer next to her, she slowly opened her eyes, only gradually allowing in the bright, morning light.

He was in the kitchen, in jeans but shirtless, fussing over the stove. Whatever it was, it was not cooperating, and even the super spy was looking a bit helpless.

She crawled out of bed quietly and padded over to witness his culinary demise. She'd always been able to sneak up on him if she put her mind to it.

"You're making eggs."

To his credit, he never flinched. "You need a good breakfast."

She slipped in closer to him. "Then why did you decide to cook?"

He smiled at that, but didn't take his eyes off the stove. "I didn't want to leave and give you a chance to sneak out."

"Where would you get a silly idea like that?" She poked his side.

He rolled his eyes. The eggs were sticking more and more to the frying pan. Their crinkly edges were quickly turning brown.

"These are almost ready. Take some more Advil."

She did as she was told and settled on a stool at the counter. He soon placed the plate of food in front of her. She poked a piece of egg with the fork. It was a bit rubbery but only slightly brown. It amused her that this man of so many talents had such little luck with the simpler things in life. He could fix you a Balkan feast or an Afghani delicacy, but scrambled eggs? Not so much. She took a bite and smiled overenthusiastically for his benefit.

He rolled his eyes again but leaned in closer. "Listen Fi," he started softly. "I'm sorry about what's going on with Jesse. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but if there were any way to make it better, you know I would."

"You could tell him the truth," she said simply between bites.

And they were at the impasse again.

"Fi…you know I…"

"I know," she set down the fork. "Can we just agree to disagree? I don't want to keep fighting. If yesterday showed us anything, it's that we're both living on borrowed time." She reached over to grab his hand. "Even though I was clearly never in any real danger yesterday, and could have easily handled the situation by myself, it did remind me that no matter what happens I don't want to die mad at you."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips. "I think that's something I can definitely agree with, yes."

"Good," she smiled back. "Now can we go to Carlitos? I'm starving!"


End file.
